


Picture Perfect (except not because perfect is overrated)

by crazyqueerecrivain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Equine AU, F/F, I am choosing to ignore season 3 Bellamy, hopefully fluffy, with an angsty clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyqueerecrivain/pseuds/crazyqueerecrivain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is an angsty med student without a productive outlet for her art, while Lexa is a button-up accountant who has a side job that is a little more dirt than one would expect from such a profession. A commissioned piece of art (Clarke's least favorite things to do) brings them together (?) but will the dense idiots admit their feelings or will they just pine. Even I don't know. </p><p>or</p><p>a horseback riding au no one wanted </p><p>Sorry about the shitty summary</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Perfect (except not because perfect is overrated)

Clarke’s world was pretty picture perfect. She and her best friend Bellamy shared an apartment a few blocks from Georgetown, where she attended medical school. From most people’s perspectives, she and Bellamy were dating, so in theory, Clarke was doing even better. She had innocent looking blue eyes and blond wavy hair. She appeared to be following in her mother’s perfectly carved out footsteps, and in most respects she was. She took part in Georgetown’s Early Assurance program and her sophomore year there, found out she’d been accepted to the medical school. She had a pretty perfect life, but the little idle time med school left her, she didn’t exactly spend productively. Bellamy would kill her if he knew, and Octavia kept trying to give Clarke a more productive outlet for her art, but it had yet to work. There was something so romantic, to Clarke, about making her mark in the dead of night. Raven didn’t help; she just encouraged Clarke.

“Hey Clar?” Bellamy’s voice echoed through the apartment as the door shut behind him. Clarke kicked the duffle bag full of spray paint under her bed.

“Yo, what up?” Clarke called, peeling off her sweatshirt that was covered with paint. There were few smells Clarke found intoxicating, and one of them was the sweet smell of spray paint. Bellamy appeared in her doorframe

“O called. She said her barn wants some sort of mural painted. She’s gonna pick you up in five.” Clarke groaned. She had met the Blake kids in high school, Octavia should know that she hated organized paintings. They were always so stiff and regulated. Clarke never got to have creative freedom on pieces commissioned by organizations. “C’mon Whiney, humor her. You know how happy she’s been at that barn.” Clarke knew Bellamy was right. Octavia didn’t find something she loved often, and she really loved riding; though Bellamy didn’t know the entire story. Octavia loved riding, but the attractive stable hand didn’t hurt. Bellamy was a little bit, how could Clarke phrase it nicely, overbearing, so Octavia was often hesitant to introduce love interests to him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I won’t make any snarky comments, and I won’t be angsty.” Clarke grumbled. She shouldn’t have been as angsty as she was, but since her dad was sent to prison it just came naturally. It wasn’t long before Octavia burst through the door and dragged Clarke away.

* * *

“So are you ever going to tell Bellamy that your love for this barn stems from your infatuation with the stable boy?” Clarke teased, nudging Octavia playfully. Octavia just rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at Clarke.

A young woman approached, and Clarke noticed Octavia’s posture straighten. “Clarke this is Indra.” Clarke had to admit, the woman demanded respect and kind of intimidated her. “She’s the one who wants to commission your work.” Clarke nodded, meeting the opposite woman’s intense gaze. 

Before she could ask Indra what she wanted, she was told. “We’d like you to paint dressage letters for both the indoor ring, and the outdoor. We’d like chalkboard nameplates with the horses’ names in semi-permanent chalk. Is that possible?”

Clarke thought over the words, while she started to visualize what each thing would look like, when she realized there was a missing piece. “Yes. I’m not positive about the whole semi-permanent chalk thing, but there’s waterproof paint marker things that could probably do the trick.” Clarke paused, her question still brimming on her lips. “What exactly are dressage letters?”

A look from Indra quieted Octavia’s short-lived laugh. “They are letter that are spread around the ring. There are eleven, but I would only commission eight. I don’t care for the hanging ones. They are the following letters: A, B, C, E, F, H, K, and M. I will show you the placement of them, if you’ll follow me to the ring.” Indra said curtly, before cutting past Clarke and Octavia before turning into the barn. If the smell of barn wasn’t evident before, it was now. Clarke hadn’t ridden since she was eleven years old, but her dad grew up on a farm and insured that Clarke knew the difference between manure smell and barn smell. 

Before Indra could motion to where the letters were supposed to go, Clarke’s eye caught the rider in the ring. The horse cantering around the ring had to be taller than Clarke, yet the girl on top of the horse seemed to have full control of the bay beast. Indra seemed to notice Clarke following the equestrian and horse around with her gaze. “Ah yes, that’s Lexa and Sulley. You can take a picture.” Indra started with salt, “It’ll last longer.”

Clarke felt a warm on her cheeks and an anger bubble in her stomach. Indra’s glare couldn’t quiet Octavia’s giggle. “Sorry. My dad rode, it never looked that seamless.” Clarke tried to growl, but the embarrassment seeped into her voice.

“Indra giving you a hard time for watching?” A laugh came from Clarke’s left. She couldn’t see much of the Lexa’s face under her helmet, but she could see the girl’s green eyes. Clarke tried to string together words, but in her usual smooth Clarke fashion, she just sputtered out incoherent sounds. “Don’t worry.” Lexa smiled, “She does it to everyone. Sulley and I are pretty uncommon. I started riding him at four.” It must have been evident to Lexa that Clarke was phased, as Lexa continued. “Oh sorry, he was four, I was seventeen. We’ve been together ever since.” Lexa grinned, patting Sulley's neck. 

“Wow, that’s a long time.” Clarke offered stupidly. Lexa laughed again.

“Yeah, we’re kind of perfect together though. I would hate to throw that away.” Lexa turned her attention to the horse. “Isn’t that right Mister Mammoth?”

“Lexa this is Octavia’s friend Clarke. The artist we’re looking to hire.” Indra explained, obviously trying to change the subject back to the original one. Lexa hopped off of Sulley, but apparently they weren’t perfectly perfect together, as Lexa hobbled backwards slightly after getting off. Perfect was overrated anyways.

“Is that right?” Lexa breathed heavily, finally taking off her helmet. Lexa wiped her hair back before holding it out for Clarke to shake. “Oh shit I’m sweaty.” Lexa laughed, blushing a little bit. She wiped her hand on her britches before offering to Clarke again. Clarke laughed a little and took the slightly taller girl’s hand. “Let’s go talk about my art.” Lexa grinned, handing her horse to Indra. Lexa seemed to be the only one who Indra submitted to, though Clarke had only met one other person, and that was Indra herself. Clarke could already tell that Lexa had quirks, but perfect definitely was overrated.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on tumblr (my-queer-french-scars)


End file.
